


A year in the life of Misha Collins, sex toy salesman extraordinaire

by Janice_Lester



Category: Star Trek RPF, Supernatural RPF, Supernatural RPF/Star Trek XI RPF
Genre: Chastity Device, Drag, Ensemble Cast, F/M, M/M, Multi, Pegging, Sex Toys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-29
Updated: 2011-09-29
Packaged: 2017-11-26 16:35:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/652259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Janice_Lester/pseuds/Janice_Lester
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Misha works in a sex shop, and he's very, very good at what he does.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A year in the life of Misha Collins, sex toy salesman extraordinaire

**Author's Note:**

> Written as a single-line extra for [](http://kink-bingo.dreamwidth.org/profile)[kink_bingo](http://kink-bingo.dreamwidth.org/), to hit the kinks "silence", "chastity devices", "pegging/strap-ons" (my wildcard), "vanilla kink", and "dressup". Features pegging, people in drag, ensemble cast, erotic furniture, and a somewhat fuzzy timeline. Beta'd by [](http://marlee813.livejournal.com/profile)[marlee813](http://marlee813.livejournal.com/). Mainly Vicki/Misha and Zach/Anton; other pairings are background.

The automatic doors slide open to admit a pair of customers. Misha and his colleagues glance at the security camera monitor out of long habit, assessing the new arrivals while they’re still miles away at the far end of the store.

“They look straight and kinda vanilla,” Jared says.

“Looks can be deceiving,” Zach says, tapping at his teeth. “I got the best flogging of my life from a fifty-something stereotypical librarian.”

Misha doesn’t have a comment to make, yet. He’s still assessing the couple. They’re in their forties, the woman calm, collected, the man either very nervous or very excited.

He’s walking before he knows it, aiming to intercept them between the big lube display and the corset section.

“Hello,” he says, trying not to scare them with his enthusiasm. “I’m Misha. Anything I can help you with?”

He looks from one to the other of them. The man’s scuffing one shoe against the lino, but the woman meets his gaze confidently.

“Do you carry chastity belts for men?”

Misha grins. “Yes, ma’am, several kinds. They’re just over this way—”

As he’s ringing up their purchases a half hour later, including the belt he lovingly demonstrated to them (without volunteering anyone’s penis, of course, you never know when the cops might bust in with something to say about that) plus cleaning supplies for it and the penis it will be spending so much time with, a rabbit vibrator, some candles, and a large vibrating buttplug designed for prostate stimulation (Misha had plucked it off a shelf on a whim and explained what it was. The man’s eyes had gone very wide, but the woman’s had lit up), Misha can just hear the others behind the staff curtain muttering in fond exasperation about his ability to pick ‘em. He scribbles a URL on the back of the receipt, hands it over with a quick word about how the instructions that come with the device are crap and it’s better to hear from actual users online. Smiles as the happy couple depart. His work here is done.

“And that, my friends,” he says, parting the curtains with a flourish and stepping through, “is how it’s done.” He takes a small bow, then climbs up onto the stool with the clitoris-and-hood shaped back (his favourite of the items of anatomy-themed furniture he made for the store. Though the scrotum beanbag chair _is_ fuzzy and awesome). He accepts the mug of coffee Zach offers him.

“Seems like chastity’s the new black,” says Jared.

“No, it’s the new _rope_ ,” Zach complains. “There’s been a tragic decline in people wanting to tie each other up. You know I had trouble finding an attractive volunteer from the audience the last time I ran my How Best to Restrain Your Twink class?”

“Shocking,” Jared says, suddenly smothering a yawn. “Look, I gotta get going, I have a dentist thing. Zoe’s covering, should be here any minute.” And with that, he lifts the strap of his messenger bag over his head, turns and strides out towards the exit. The man really does have ridiculously long legs. That Genevieve’s a lucky gal. If Misha wasn’t happily collared, he might bestir himself to be jealous.

“So,” Zach says, when it’s just the two of them, “where is everyone? Has kink died and I didn’t notice the obituary?”

Misha shrugs. “That new place across town had its grand opening last week. Maybe we just need to wait until the shine wears off.”

“Or do something _amazing_ to make them all race over here. Members only night? Free flogging demonstrations? Tattooist on site? Live music performed by overly tattooed and body-pierced naked musicians drenched in shiny blue goo?”

“Or go the other way,” Misha says. “Pick up on what Danneel and Zoe have been doing, trying to bring the younger women in. Have a super-friendly day, try to create a nice atmosphere where no question is too stupid. Give out free basic vibrators to the under-25s.”

“Hmpf,” Zach says, but Misha can tell he’s thinking about it.

***

Misha’s got a half-shift Saturday with Genevieve and Chris. Genevieve becomes instant BFFs with a frightened-looking teenager who stumbles in wanting mechanical aid to experience her first orgasm. Chris helps everyone with everything, and unknowingly displays his excellent ass to full advantage when he climbs a ladder to dust some of the mannequins and oddities on the walls. Misha jury-rigs the mammary-themed love seat, which has been wobbling on its spindly legs, then creates an awesomely colourful display for their brand new line of ‘uncut’ lifelike dildos. Then the sexiest fucking couple walks in, holding hands, wearing skintight blue-jeans and pink t-shirts and just generally looking as if they wandered in off a Pride parade, and Misha’s giddy with joy when they tell him they want matching high-end cock cages. Misha makes sure to tell them about the substitute rubber-and-plastic padlocks that won’t set off metal detectors, because sooner or later everyone has to pass through one of those things, right? And… embarrassing. (It’s all on the website he points people at, but he judges these guys aren’t too nervous to be receptive to information given verbally as well.)

“Hey, man,” one of them says, eyeing him speculatively, “you kinda get off on this, huh?”

“I like seeing people happy.”

“Little spitfire,” the other guy says, looking at his partner. “We need anything else?”

“We have dildos with foreskins,” Misha offers. “Very lifelike, I made detailed comparisons with the real thing myself. Ooh, and some fantastic new lubes! Some of the flavoured ones are even _tasty_ this year.”

“How could we resist that? Lead on, sir, lead on!”

***

Part of Misha’s next shift he actually spends doing an online interview with a blogger who’s planning a series of articles about fetish wear and chastity gear. Misha tries to answer as fully and completely as he can so that people will get a proper picture, but he also has to dodge the questions about whether he does any of this stuff in his personal life because Vicki wouldn’t approve of that kind of stuff becoming public. Fortunately, the interview questions were sent to him in advance of the video chat, and Zach’s proved surprisingly awesome coaching him on how to say what he needs to say and not say what he doesn’t want to say regardless of what the questions actually ask for. He trusts the final product will be worth the effort. Zoe’s hoping the publicity will drum up more business, but Misha’s not really sure how much more business they can handle and still keep providing that all-important caring personal touch, you know? So mainly he hopes that there’s at least one person out there whose life can be changed for the better by hearing this message.

Yeah, so maybe Misha kinda wants to change the world, just a little bit. It’s an old habit he’s never really tried all that hard to break.

***

Despite some loud objections, Misha wears his favourite bright pink shirt open over his employee t-shirt for their girls’ night thing. Which turns out to have a lot more cool music than he was expecting, and less giggling. Lots of older women, too, not just college girls wanting their first sex toys. He helps a middle-aged lesbian select her first strap-on; she says she’s never topped before but with her new girlfriend she just can’t resist. The “rich cocoa” is actually a pretty good match for her skin tone, but the lady laughs and goes for the “clementine swirl” instead.

“They all have food names,” she observes. “Do they think hot sex isn’t delicious enough on its own?”

Misha laughs and says he’s happy to call it “mottled yellowish-red” if she prefers. He can’t actually think of a synonym for “orange” that isn’t also food-related.

Later on, he does help the stereotypical blonde busty co-eds, but they aren’t here for their very first vibrators. One wants to know how well their leather under-bust corsets fit and wear over time. The other asks him to recommend the best place in town to get labial piercing done.

He sells all kinds of porn to all kinds of women. Someone tells him she usually gets her stuff online, but only because random strange men don’t always react like gentlemen when they see you browsing that section of a store.

“This was a good idea,” Zach says, coming up behind him during a lull at the counter. “I just had a stimulating argument about the usefulness of real rope with a tiny slip of a girl. I was actually tempted to propose some kind of challenge. Would have been hot.”

“Glad you’re enjoying yourself, boss,” Misha says, and absolutely does not snicker like a cartoon character.

“Perhaps we should do some other themed nights? Perhaps get the local community more involved?”

“You’re thinking of the gay bondage community, aren’t you?”

“For starters. Then I thought you could do a male chastity evening. Perhaps get in some long-time practitioners to give a little talk, if they were willing. Life under lock and key.”

“That could be fun,” Misha allows guardedly, because it could also be a lot of work. For him alone. “What about the others? Would they get their own special little gala evenings to run?”

Zach shrugs. “Fisting night. Pegging night. Massage night. Pain night.”

“Ah, there, I see them now.”

Zach raises a fuzzy brow.

“The dollar signs in your eyes.”

“Misha, Misha,” Zach says, looking wounded but sounding amused. He actually has his hand over his heart. “Don’t you know that I merely want to teach the world to sing in perfect harmony? Grow apple trees and honey bees and snow-white turtle doves?”

Before Misha can quite think up a response to this, an elderly-librarian type complete with greying mousey-brown bun deposits a bottle of lube and a brightly-coloured buttplug box on the counter. He smiles a welcome and starts ringing her up.

***

The truth is that sometimes Misha does wear a chastity device. The trouble is that he loves it a little too much, and doesn’t always adjust well to having it taken off when Vicki wants the use of Meaty Mish. He suspects that might be a common problem. Also, he hates having to put it on in the first place. Even though that gets him hard. It’s all very confusing. But there are good things and bad things to be confused about in life, and this is definitely one of the good ones.

“You’re frowning,” Vicki says, paused with her forkful of pancake halfway to her mouth. “Something on your mind?”

Misha glances over to make sure little ears are not listening in. “Do you think it’s time to lock up Little Misha again?”

She shrugs. “I had other plans for him tonight, but if you’re hankering for some enforced restraint—?”

Now Misha can feel his frown. He shakes his head slowly. “No, I want it to be your choice.”

“Okay. Well, as I said, I have other plans. But how about we have a nice dirty weekend with your penis all locked away, untouchable?”

That wicked sparkle’s entered her eye, and Misha shudders at what that might mean. Having to service her over and over. Possibly even having to bend over and let her fuck him. While being completely unable to touch his cock. Of course, he still might manage to come from the mental and physical stimulation, but that actually hasn’t spoiled the mood the two or three times it’s happened before.

“Sounds lovely,” Misha says, voice gone suddenly gruff.

Vicki winks, then returns her attention to her plate.

 _Most awesome wife in the world_ , Misha thinks dazedly.

***

“I love working here,” Zoe sighs, during their monthly staff meeting and non-sexual orgy. Zach is karate-chopping away at her shoulders while Misha carefully buffs her toenails all smooth and pretty. He’s wearing his Superman costume, because Zach allows them some leeway on monthly staff meetings days. (And also, Misha suspects, because he doesn’t look half bad in tights. Especially when Vicki’s made him shave his legs the night before.)

“I hope no one’s fishing for raises,” Zach says coolly, pausing to cup the base of Zoe’s skull in his big hands and gently manipulate her neck, “because no one is getting a raise.”

Zoe elbows him for this. Zach’s indignant squawk is hilarious, and Misha has to hide his reaction behind the arm not holding the emery board.

“Working here is awesome,” Chris agrees, before resuming loudly slurping at his milkshake.

“I could use more shifts,” Jared puts in. “Dog food isn’t cheap, and my dogs aren’t small.”

“People food isn’t cheap,” Jensen observes, “and _you’re_ certainly not small.”

“You’d know,” Jared says, and bats his eyelashes. If Misha didn’t already have _ideas_ about those two, that would have done it.

“Children,” Zach says, “we are meant to be discussing whether or not to roll over to the new inventory software we’ve been trialling.”

There are eye-rolls and disgruntled noises all round, and Zach starts looking _much_ happier. Sadist.

***

“Are you sure people can’t tell you’ve got it on?” the customer asks.

“Depends what you wear and how you tuck it,” Misha says. “But, generally, if you’re careful…” He holds out his arms, spins on the spot. Gives a couple of pelvic thrusts to demonstrate the absence of visible plastic-y bulges in his crotch-al area.

The customer looks at him, reads his expression. Scans slowly over his body once more. Blushes. “I’ll, uh, I’ll take one, then.”

Misha beams. Truly, he loves this job.

***

“Shush,” she says, “shhhh.”

Misha whines, but manages to keep from saying anything. His arms are starting to complain about holding him in this position, bent over the bed, taking the force of her every thrust. And Vicki has no unfortunate ideas about needing to be gentle. She wields her silicon cock as if it were real and very, very needy, and she fucks into him over and over until she works up a sweat. It’s awesome. Hard to keep quiet, though. It’s not a small cock, and she goes deep, so deep he gets to feel the extra ridge at the base stretching his hole on some thrusts.

“Such a good boy,” she says, and pets his back, the nape of his neck where it’s already damp. His ass clenches compulsively around her dick, his balls starting to tighten. He whimpers, drops down to his elbows, buries his face in the comforter. Bites into the fabric to keep his moans inside.

“Such a nice big cock you sold me,” she says, and that’s it, he’s gone, spurting all over the bed with a cry muffled but not hidden by the blanket. “Mmm,” she says, pulling out so he can collapse. “Not bad.” She pats his ass approvingly.

Misha drifts, blissed out and physically drained. The next thing he’s really aware of, she’s binding his wrists together in the small of his back. When he rolls to look up at her, she tenderly places a blindfold over his eyes. He feels the bed shift as she climbs onto it, seems to be settling herself against the pillows.

“Come over here,” she says. “Mistress needs orgasms.”

So he goes, squirming awkwardly because it’s hard to crawl with your arms tied behind your back. But he gets to her, finds her inner thigh with his cheek, follows it down until he has a face full of fragrant, wet pussy. Licks. Flavour hits his tongue, heady like wine. Misha groans and dives in.

_This is the life._

***

“One of mine, I think,” Zoe had said confidently that day, and skipped down to meet the customer. She’d come back, shrugging, two minutes later.

There had been no element of competition in Misha’s head, he’d simply watched his co-worker fail and seen no harm in trying himself. So he’d moseyed on down to the far end of the store, and there she’d been. Crew-cut, slightly too curvy for the man’s suit she was otherwise rocking, adorable in thick-framed reading glasses that looked forty years out of fashion.

He’d taken one look at her and been instantly nervous. Afterwards, when he’d tried to puzzle out that reaction, he’d vaguely recalled something he’d once heard Yoko Ono say in an interview: that both she and John had known when they met that any relationship they formed would be all-consuming, so they’d both resisted boarding that boat for a long time. It’d been something like that for Misha; he’d looked at this woman in drag and been scared he was seeing his forever.

“Need a hand, sir?” he’d asked, a little shyly, unsure whether he should gender her at all.

“Not the body part I was in the market for, no.” She’d smiled a little, and something in his chest had _wobbled_.

“Packing dildo?” he’d hazarded, locking his neck so he wouldn’t look down at her crotch.

“You carry those?”

He’d gestured. “Right this way.”

She’d been impressed with the selection and unimpressed with the prices, which showed good judgement in Misha’s book. But she’d chosen one, tucked it under her arm and peered at him through those archaic glasses. She really was very tall. And that suit was just amazing. He kinda wanted to _be_ that suit when he grew up.

“Um,” he’d said, fighting the urge to pick at his cuticles so he’d have an excuse not to meet that intent gaze. “Can I interest you in a strap-on? They’re just over here…”

She hadn’t followed this time, and he’d got only two steps away before he realised and, embarrassed, doubled back.

“I don’t screw women,” she’d said. “Well, I haven’t yet. I suppose I _could_.” She’d raised one bushy eyebrow.

“You, um, can use them on men, too. That would be—” he cleared his throat “—I mean, that _can_ be—so fucking hot. Have you seen _Bend Over Boyfriend_? It’s really, um, informative. I think we have it on sale right now…”

She hadn’t bought the dildo then, though she had bought the DVD. Zach had swooped in to ring her up, while Misha had just sort of stood in a corner and blushed. He hadn’t noticed Zach getting up to mischief, but when he got the phone call that night it wasn’t too hard to figure out who’d given her Misha’s number.

So he’d ended up on a date. At her apartment. “Bring a pizza,” she’d said, “Whatever you like as long as there’s no anchovies. I’ll supply the wine. You like red or white better?”

“Red,” he’d said, and she’d made an approving noise.

They’d missed the second half of the DVD, already making out on the couch. She’d popped open her fly, lifted the warm, solid weight of the packing dildo out. Then taken him by the wrist, encouraged him to put his hand down her boxers and get her off. She’d been wet and hot and incredibly fucking responsive, and after she’d come she’d encouraged him to jerk off for her entertainment, and _that_ had been amazing, too. She’d kissed him deep, given him a few minutes to collect himself, then smiled and kicked him out.

The next day she’d walked into the shop, demanded Misha when Jared’s predecessor, Simon, had tried to assist her, and proceeded to talk through the merits of the various strap-on harnesses and dildo models they carried until he was pink in the cheeks and she was getting kinda hoarse.

She’d fucked him for the first time that weekend. Twice. Proposed marriage a month later.

***

“I’ve found him!” Zach declares, sinking into the scrotum-shaped beanbag chair with a squelch of vinyl and displaced polystyrene beans. “He’s small and biddable and he gets hard the second you threaten to tie him up. His name is Anton and he’s _perfect_. I think I’m in love. He does appear to be straight, but they sometimes grow out of that, right?”

Misha shrugs helplessly, because what the hell do you say to that? And if anyone can build a bridge out of kink and cross it to reach love, surely it’s Zach? He _is_ the guy who spent the proceeds from the sale of his anti-virus startup buying a seedy adult bookshop in need of TLC and turned it into a raging success where decent people aren’t embarrassed to shop. Well, some of them. Some of them would be embarrassed by this kind of place no matter what the decor and atmosphere were like. And some of them, of course, get off on being embarrassed, so it’s totally not a problem. “Have you asked him out?”

Zach’s substantial brows knit. “I think so. We’re meeting—” a pause, a distasteful curl of the lips “—at a sports bar to _watch the game_ and _shoot the shit, man_. I’m not sure he’s actually old enough to drink, come to think of it…”

“Relax,” Misha says. “You’ll do fine. And if the romance doesn’t happen, you’ll always have rope, right?”

Zach sighs nostalgically.

***

Almost ten years to the day since Misha took the job at Zach’s to help pay his way through graduate school, he officially lands the job of manager at the first of what Zach hopes will be several satellite stores in other cities and other states. The grand gala opening they’re planning is going to be spectacular, and Misha’s almost excited enough not to notice how nervous he is about the whole deal. Vicki’s completely stoic, though. She’s going to be assistant manager, after the baby’s born and she’s ready to return to work. Zach gives them all this good news at another important ceremony: his handfasting with Anton, which is celebrated with—of course—a great deal of rope.

“No one could possibly run one of my stores with more enthusiasm,” Zach says, idly stroking Anton’s hair with his unbound hand while the kid leans into his chest. “And I confess I’m hoping you’ll save me some money by constructing more erotic furniture.”

Misha beams. “Aye, sir. I have some ideas about interlocking pieces. Mouth-chairs that fit into cock chairs to make love-seats. Double-dildo chairs that fit with ass chairs on one side and cunt seats on the other side to make couches.” He gestures, sketching out the various shapes in the air.

Zach nods indulgently and looks almost convincingly politely interested until the conversation swings back around to him and Anton again.

“I’m sure you’ll make each other very happy,” Vicki says, idly patting her enormously pregnant belly. She’s dressed up for the occasion in an actual dress, a long, flowing, floral thing that is somehow completely her even though it’s unlike anything he’s ever seen her wear before. How many years together now? And he’s still kinda jealous of her clothes.

“I’m counting on it,” Zach says. “And now I’ll always have a handsome volunteer for my How to Restrain Your Twink workshops!”

“Well, that’s all that matters,” Chris says, coming up to loop an arm obnoxiously around Zach’s neck. He gives the boss a peck on the cheek. “Come on, the Jays and their girls want to monopolise the happy couple for a bit before they have to take their leave. They gotta go soon if they want to get back to Texas for turkey time.”

“Oh, very well, very well,” Zach says, doing an excellent impression of a crotchety octogenarian as he strides away, somewhat hampered by the man attached to him on either side.

Misha relaxes back against the nearest wall, opens his arms for Vicki when she gives him that look. She sinks into the embrace with a sigh, and he holds her, breathes in the weirdly spicy fruit scent of her shampoo. Crinkles the fabric of her dress in his hands and wonders if he’ll be allowed to make love to her in it later. He doesn’t really mind which of them wears it.

“I’m glad we work here,” she says, and has to stifle a yawn. “But it _is_ kinda crazy.”

“Yeah. Think I’m gonna go for a much more laid-back vibe at _our_ store.”

“Suits me. Can we head home soon?”

“I think we should. Zach’s idea of partying into the wee small hours is unlikely to be wholesome, and you do have a baby on board.”

“You make me sound like a sport utility vehicle. Mind you, lately I do sort of feel like one.”

Misha’s sure he should respond with some clever quip on the automotive theme, but all the can really think is that she feels damn good in his arms. So he tells her that instead.

***END***


End file.
